All Quiet Here
by Beckon
Summary: He smelt of gunpowder and burnt energy cells. Of blood, sweat, and tears- all of which had stained his jacket far too many times over. But there was still the lingering relief of victory, the stunning disbelief that the Institute had met its match against the Minutemen of the Commonwealth.


**A/N: Fifth installment to the Preston Appreciation Week.**

* * *

 _"It's all quiet here."_

The voice on the radio sounded off in the distance, sounded too far away to make any difference to her.

How could it be all quiet when her ears were still ringing from the guns that were fired right next to her? When she had a constant ringing sound inside of her head from taking one too many hits to the cranium.

How could it be all quiet when she could hear the faint sounds of pain coming from inside of the Castle? When the stone walls behind her seemed to vibrate with the struggles of the wounded, and the panicked running of the medics.

...

But Nora watched as the man at the radio finished relying his message and switched the microphone to off, before he got to his feet. She watched him, expecting him to retreat to the inside of the Castle with the others, only to watch as he nervously began to pace around the makeshift radio tower. Only to watch as he knitted his hands together in a tight, sweaty clasp as he breathed into them, as one would a paper bag at the start of a panic attack.

But he didn't panic; he didn't start cursing or crying, or at least none that she could hear.

Instead, he continued to pace round and round again- wearing out the dirt beneath his boots.

...

Nora had to give him credit where it was due.

It couldn't have been easy for him to sit at the radio and call in to the closest settlements with the knowledge that an Institute invasion was looming over their heads. It couldn't have been easy for him to know that the reinforcements that did arrive might not make it back to their homes that night... and know that that burden came back on him.

It couldn't have been easy for him to try and listen through the mess of gunfire for the crackling of Synths relaying all around them; he could only hope that he gave out the right direction when he called out about the latest Institute arrival. Nora still tried to suppress the crack of fear in his voice when he called out the arrival of the Institute Coursers.

It couldn't have been easy for him to watch as his fellow men were shot down all around him while he had to keep to his job- while he had to focus on keeping the rest of them alive, and keep the Castle standing.

...

Couldn't have been easy to announce their victory over the Institute while he tried to clean the blood off of the generators, trying to keep it away from the exposed wires to avoid a spark.

Couldn't have been easy to read out the names of those they had lost when it was all over, and the dead had been counted.

Couldn't have been easy to keep the Commonwealth updated at every hour, on the hour, while the courtyard around him remained littered with shattered, synthetic bodies. While the courtyard still echoed with the roar of gunfire, with the shriek of Gen 2 synths being blown apart, and with the screams of the wounded going down at his feet.

But the man continued to pace, breathing into his hands until his heart stopped racing, until his legs guided him back into his chair once more.

Nora sighed, and knitted her hands over the back of her neck before she closed her eyes.

None of it had been easy for her either, but... she didn't like to linger on the things that messed her up on the inside. She'd rather think about her freshly cracked ribs, her busted nose and burnt cheek, than think about the way Shaun had looked at her- than think about the way Shaun had spoken to her.

 _"If you don't stand with the Institute, then stay out of our way."_

It made her feel sick on the inside.

It made her want to sleep to try and ignore the pain and torment, but she knew she couldn't- not while her head was buzzing, and her heart felt like death. Sleeping on those kinds of thoughts and feelings was worst than going to sleep angry.

They made her wake up feeling rotted on the inside.

Gutted and defeated.

Which wouldn't be any different to how she already felt now.

...

She rocked lightly back and forth, feeling the stone wall of the Castle against her back as she used her heels to push her movements. Her elbows were loosely resting on her knees as she kept her head dipped down to her chest- feeling the aching of her spine as she kept it curved forward.

They won their match against the Institute... so why did she feel so defeated?

"General?"

She lifted her head at his voice, and barely opened her eyes enough to see him kneeling in front of her- enough to see the look of tired concern on his face. She wanted to assure him that she was alright, but... even she couldn't quite muster up that level of bullshit.

A faint catch of movement behind him caught her eye, as she watched as the radio man slowly walked into one of the Castle's many doors- sealing himself inside of the protective stone walls.

And she had no doubt that one of Preston's famous reassuring talks had convinced the man to go on radio silence for the night.

Which was good.

Nora gave out a hard sigh, before she dropped her hands and moved them to tangle in the burnt sleeves of his duster. He was looking just as roughed up and beaten as she was; his duster was spotted with blood and a whole lot more wear and tear on it.

The man never even blinked at the sight of Institute Synths relaying directly into the Castle itself.

And even after it was all over, after the Synths were gone and the Institute had given up... he didn't stop working. He continue to check in on the wounded, continued to get whatever supplies the medic on hand needed; he even continued to do routine checks along the perimeter- never once letting his guard down again.

But that was just... who he was.

"I told you getting Sarge 2.0 was a good idea," Nora spoke, as she leaned back against the wall behind her.

Her seemingly off-handed remark rewarded her with one of his tired laughs.

While he didn't exactly call her crazy when she brought up the idea of getting another Sentry Bot for the Castle, the look he had given her then said enough. And while Sentry Bots were a little hard to come by, and were usually hostile when they did cross paths with one, she didn't give up on the idea. Looking back on it now, Nora wasn't entirely sure why she was so insistent on getting one- maybe she just kept thinking about how General Becker had had one, and how Ronnie had talked about Sarge's artificial dedication to the Castle during his prime.

Maybe it was jealousy, or... maybe insecurity that sent her out on that wild robot hunt.

In the end, she did find one though, and she managed to bait it into battle long enough for it to overheat and expose its fusion cores. She made the mistake of being in a rush and removing the cores by hand- to which, to this day, there were still blisters on her fingers from doing so. When the Sentry Bot stalled into stand-by mode, she hacked its system to shut it down completely; and then, with a little help from Sturges, she re-programmed it to serve the Minutemen and to protect the Castle.

Thus, Sarge 2.0.

"I never said it was a bad idea," Preston replied, "I just said... that it wasn't a wise idea."

"You said that about the Protectrons too," Nora reminded.

After reprogramming a Sentry Bot, she admitted she got a little... hot-headed and felt like there was more she could do. Maybe she was just desperate to really put herself out there as the General, to really earn the respect and devotion these people already gave her. So, by odd chance, when she was exploring one of the technical buildings nearby and found three Protectrons still in their charging cells... she couldn't pass it up.

In reality though, she was half-certain she just wanted to see them walk around in a Minutemen hat.

Hell, she had even gotten the Protectrons all painted up in the Minutemen colors and had the symbol sketched across their chest plates.

...

Unfortunately, they ended up losing one of the Protectrons during the Institute battle, but thankfully the other two only suffered minor damages.

One Sentry Bot.

Three Protectrons.

Four Artillery pieces.

And over thirty fighters- and they still barely managed to pull through, still barely managed to get out of that slaughter with their lives, and the Castle.

Preston chuckled lightly, before he moved to brush his hands against her forearms. "Yes well... you showed up to the Castle out of nowhere with three random Protectrons following you, what was I supposed to think?"

Nora smiled and figured he might've had a point there. "Sit with me for awhile?"

She didn't really have to ask, but she did.

And she watched as he moved to take the empty wall space next to her- groaning slightly as he seated himself against the cracked concrete at her side. She waited for him to get as settled as one could, before she leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder- feeling the slight burnt material of his duster against her cheek. He smelt of gunpowder and burnt energy cells.

Of blood, sweat, and tears- all of which had stained his jacket far too many times over.

But there was still the lingering relief of victory, the stunning disbelief that the Institute had met its match against the Minutemen of the Commonwealth.

There was relief, praise, and good fortune to be found in the aftermath of the war.

But those feelings were punctured by the overwhelming hint of anxiety and crippled nerves.

Just how long would this victory hold them over?

Would it even last long enough to be considered a victory? Or would they be successfully wiped out at dawn tomorrow?

"It's quiet," Preston whispered, and Nora could feel the way his shoulder slightly dropped, as though he was finally giving himself a chance to breathe again. "It doesn't mean much, but... it's something to hold onto for now."

"Cherish it," she replied, as she slowly reached over and tangled her hand with one of his- knitting their bruised and battered fingers together, despite the pain that lingered in their joints. "We survived this attack, which... is more than what most people can say. And I think that sends a strong enough message back to the Institute. They can try again, but... we're not giving this place up so easily- especially not since we had to fight a Mirelurk Queen for it."

He chuckled quietly with her, and squeezed her hand in response.

...

It couldn't have been easy for him to see the Castle, the very symbol of the Minutemen, under attack once again.

It couldn't have been easy to think of the possibilities; to think that, in a worst ending, they could've died, and the Castle would've been left behind as a ghost town- a message to the Commonwealth, signed by the Institute.

They could've been the next University Point.

But they weren't.

This could've been the second end to the Minutemen.

But it wasn't.

And Nora was glad.

She was damn glad.

She didn't think she could stand to see him witness the crush of the Minutemen all over again- not even for the few seconds before death overwhelmed them.

Because, in the aftermath of a war, she found herself not wanting to be anywhere else but here, but at the Castle.

And she didn't want to be with anyone else but him.

This was the future she was looking forward to- the future that she finally got the chance to control.

And she would be damned if she let the Institute take it from her.

She heard him give out a heavy breath before he leaned against her just the same, resting his head against hers, and allowing her to move closer into the curve of his neck. Fingers tightened against his, before she moved her second hand to join- cupping his hand completely between the two of hers. "Just get me through this, okay?"

He reached across her with his other arm, and pulled her in against him as his lips brushed against her forehead.

"We're getting through this together."

He made it sound so easy.

"I promise."


End file.
